On the other side of the world, another authority figure was finishing up a slightly different welcoming speech.

          "… And at no time will you handle the money without consulting with me. It would be un-American to give away profits, and until you foreigners learn our ways, I won't risk it."

          "Yes, Miss Emerson," Fred and George chorused. Dawn thought they seemed slightly green, which made sense to her. Anya's graphic description of the consequences of disobeying her would have turned anyone's stomach. Xander and Buffy had watched, vaguely amused, as the boys learned the circumstances of their new employment.

          "So, you guys ready to go back yet?" Dawn asked with a smile.

          "Give us five minutes to pack," George said under his breath. Fred elbowed him to stay quiet.

          "I think we'll survive, Miss Summers."

          "Oh, call me Dawn," she said, batting her eyes. The Weasley twins were pretty cute, and not much older than her…

          "Don't even think it, Dawnie," Buffy said, reading her sister's mind. Dawn narrowed her eyes and pouted but didn't respond. "So, now that you're all orientated to the Magic Box, how do you guys feel about a quick patrol? We'll show you all the good cemeteries. It'll be fun."

          Fred and George looked at each other.

          "Sure," Fred said with a shrug.

          "Yeah. Fun." George sounded less excited than his brother, but they both retrieved their wands from their packs. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"

          "Yeah. I know what you mean," Fred answered. Then he saw the others looking at them oddly. "He means doin' magic wearin' these whacko muggle clothes. Does every muggle dress this way?"

          Buffy and Dawn couldn't quite hold down their giggles. Fred and George had little muggle clothing, and had arrived earlier wearing their best robes. Xander had taken them in hand immediately; Fred had on a pair of his jeans and a navy blue Hawaiian shirt with fluorescent green flowers, while George a pair of plaid lounging pants and an oversized yellow sweater made by his mother.

          "We'll take you to the mall tomorrow," Dawn said, "and get you outfitted. You'll blend in no time."

          The boys traded another look, and Fred spoke for both of them, his face slightly red. "That's alright Miss … Dawn. I don't reckon we're quite ready to buy anythin' here just yet. But maybe some other time."

          Buffy understood the subtext readily. "Don't worry about the money; I'm sure Anya would be happy to loan you some …"

          "The hell I would!"

          "… so that you don't frighten away customers and lose business when you're dressed in your robes or Xander's laundry clothes."

          "Fine. I'll loan you money for clothes," Anya grumbled. Giles had been adamant that the Weasleys should be accommodated in adjusting to muggle life, but it didn't soften the blow of parting with money. "It's coming out of Giles' profits, though."

          "We won't need much," George said. "Just enough to work in. We've got clothes for most other stuff."

          "We'll deal tomorrow," Buffy said, snatching up Mr. Pointy from the research table. "Let's get out there before we miss the entire undead lunch hour."

          "Master are you sure we should be doing this I don't like doing this it feels bad."

          The gray man-shape glared at his minion, who for the duration of the evening had diminished to half of his normal size and now fluttered above his master's left shoulder. "You are a simpleton, Recks. We must do this. We have much to learn."

          "This Slayer is tough she's supposed to be very tough."

          "I am well aware of her capabilities. She is tougher than the rumors suggested."

          "You learned when you touched her master? Learned how tough she is if she's very tough?"

          "She survived a return from heaven with her sanity intact."

Recks gasped; very few souls had the strength to manage that, and he had never met one. He fluttered to the pavement, his tiny legs barely raising his bottom off dirty ground, and turned his beady black eyes on the magic shop. He recognized the hunger in his master's shadowy face and spoke without thinking.

          "Is she a new one master like Miss Isabel I miss Miss Isabel she was so pretty and URK!" The backhanded blow caught him across the face and sent him sprawling.

          "Never speak of her! You know the rules."

          "urk… ugh … yes, master," Recks replied, choking on his own blood. "I'm sorry master I know you miss her too and loved her even though you had to …" Recks trailed off, knowing that mentioning Isabel's fate would surely bring about his own painful death. Possibly even two of them, if he came back too fast after the first.

          Patrol began uneventfully enough; Buffy let Fred and George each incinerate a fledgling in the first cemetery, a task they tackled with grim determination and plenty of skill, Buffy decided. As they walked along, Xander at their side with a water gun and stake, she tried to get a better sense of what they could do.

          "So you've got the fire thing down," she said after the slaughter of the second vampire, "that's handy. What other cool stuff can you do? Willow used to do a locator spell for demons. How about that?"

          "Nope," George shook his head.

          "Uh uh."

          "Okay, hmm … She once wanted to make a ball of sunlight to use as a portable vamp microwave. How about that?"

          "Don't think so," Fred said, stepping past a particularly ornate headstone.

          "Not me," George agreed. "What's a microwave?"

          "Never mind."

          "She put Angel's soul back in one time. Did you guys learn that?" Xander asked. "Giving souls to vampires?"

          "Definitely not," George told him.

Fred shook his head. "S'beyond me."

"Willow used to float pencils," Buffy said, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember the simplest things Willow had done. So far these wizards didn't seem quite up to her friend's standard. "She staked a vamp with one a few years back." Xander looked at her questioningly. "In the mayor's office." She turned back to the Weasleys. "How about that?"

"Eh … I guess. Never tried it, though."

"Me neither. But we can float stuff, yeah."

          "That's a relief," Buffy said sarcastically. "So what … do you do, exactly? Other than burn stuff?"

          "Well, we're hell on brooms," George said. "Never met one we couldn't ride."

          "Brooms?" Xander said, astonished. "I thought … Willow always said … that was kind of a myth, you know, witches and broomsticks?"

          "Hey, listen, do we look like ladies to …" Fred said.

A tooth-rattling growl cut him off.

          "Shall I let him go now master right now?"

          "Yes, Recks. Now." The shadowy form watched the Slayer's party freeze in place at the sound of his pet's growl, and a fleeting smile passed across his indistinct lips.

          The dark blur burst through the tree line into the cemetery at inhuman speed.

          "Bloody…" George shouted as it came tearing towards him. He suddenly apparated and disapparated behind it. "… Hell!"

          "Xander, get back!" Buffy shouted, dropping Mr. Pointy to the ground as she dove for cover. The blur stopped when George vanished, and its true form was revealed: a hideously deformed tiger, sporting horns where its eyes should have been and a spiked tail. The claws extending from its paws gleamed razor-sharp in the moonlight.

          Buffy advanced on it warily, watching it as its horns turned back to point at her. "Okay, Tony, let's do this nice and easy." It growled. "Fred! Could you do some sort of tying spell thingy?"

          The tiger-thing obviously heard her. It attacked as Fred raised his wand, leaping at the boy with a ferocious, saliva-dripping howl. Buffy launched herself at the wizard, knocking him away with her shoulder the instant before the tiger-thing landed. Its snout drove into Buffy's exposed ribcage.

          "Ow!" She shouted as they both went tumbling across the grass. She rose from the collision in a fighting crouch, one leg extended off to the side. The tiger-thing did the same, its four knees bent in position to spring.

          Buffy moved first.

          As fast as the tiger-thing was, the Slayer was faster. Leading with her right fist, she snapped three quick punches to its striped face, then hurtled onto its back and wrapped an arm around its throat. The tiger-thing howled again, then attempted to buck her off and swat her with its tail. One of the inch-long spikes caught her black pants and ripped a hole in them.

          "Damn!" She rolled off and kicked it hard in the midsection. "These are my favorite pants!" When she raised her leg for another kick, a paw flashed out and rapped her across the forehead. Buffy went flying, crashing to the ground in a dazed heap. Spinning around, the tiger-thing carefully stalked toward her, intent on finishing its prey.

          A deafening bang erupted from George's wand, drawing its attention momentarily from the Slayer and back onto the wizard.

          "That's right, boy," George said. "Look at me, you daft bugger. That's right," he glanced quickly at Fred, "ORIS CORNEI!"

          "CIRCUMLIGO!" Fred shouted. Ropes erupted from the tip of his wand, skimming along the grass until they reached up and bound the tiger-thing's mouth closed. It shrieked in pain as George's spell simultaneously took effect and a new horn pierced the roof of its snout, growing until it broke through and Xander could see the tip. With a gag, he tossed his stake to Buffy.

          She moved in quickly and put the shrieking beast out of its misery.

          "Wow master the wizards are good did you see how good the wizards are? Horn tongue and wand ropes together very good master very quick."

          The shadow grunted. "Yes, Recks. I saw. Their presence complicates matters."

          "What about the vampires should we send the other vampires they're ready to go."

          "No," the shadow said firmly. "The bargain was to first distract her. I don't wish her dead quite yet, and their restraint is not something to be depended on." A gray hand motioned and Recks followed his master deeper into the night.

          "Wow," Xander said, helping Buffy to her feet. "You okay, Buff?"

          "Do I look okay?" She asked, sorrowfully examining the hole in her shredded pant leg.

          "Actually, you look Grrrrreat!" She gave him a look. "Oh, come on. Someone had to say it."

          "So not the case. You guys okay?"

          "I'm good."

          "Bleedin' fantastic," Fred agreed. "What the hell is that thing?"

          "Hellmouth tourist, I'm sure," Buffy answered. "We should hit the books, find out if there are more coming. Maybe call the Watcher."

          "G-man will know," Xander agreed. "Pretty fancy moves for some guys who wear robes," he told Fred.

          "Oh, we're nowhere near as useless as we seem," he said, tongue-in-cheek. "Tell me, d'you get attacked by zoo runaways a lot?"

          "When Animals Attack is pretty much never. We can handle it pretty well."

"Unless there are bunnies involved," Buffy added.

          "Bunnies?"

          "Anya. Bunnies freak her out."

          "Do they now?" George said, careful not to smile.